


Richie Listens To Music

by GayGrungyAlien



Category: IT - Stephen King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 05:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayGrungyAlien/pseuds/GayGrungyAlien
Summary: Richie Tozier has had a rough day that has only made this summer worse. Nothing a little music can't help, right?





	Richie Listens To Music

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by @learntokiss on Tumblr

* * *

Richie collapsed in his bed. Today felt like the longest day of his life so far. But it wasn't his ( _ imaginary? _ ) encounter with the Paul Bunyan statue that was on his mind. He was thinking about what had happened at the arcade about an hour before that; when Henry had screamed him out of the arcade for ( _ being gay _ ) no reason.

He felt tears well up in his eyes and he angrily took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes hard. 

_ It's unfair! I didn't do anything! I just wanted to play Street Fighter! I don't even like Ray! I only like- _

Richie cut off his own thoughts. He shouldn't even think about something like that. He was being stupid.

Richie shook his head and grabbed his walkman from his nightstand. Music always helped him relax,well as much as his hyperactive self could. Something about the driving guitars and the blasting drums seemed to soak up all the energy he had flowing through him.

He opened his walkman to check what cassette he left in there.

_ Painkiller by Judas Priest. Perfect. _

He put in his earbuds, clicked play and closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the drum solo. The double-bass. The constant crash cymbals. The unrelenting force that opens the album; Richie tried to harness that, harness that power to use as his own. If he had the force of these drums, of this music, nobody would be able to push him around or scare him; no matter how much of a loser he was. He could do what he wanted. he could be who he wanted to be. When he had this music, he was strong, he was a force to be reckoned with. He wasn't someone Henry or the other big kids could push around. With this music, he wasn't a los-

Over the drums, he heard his dad yelling.

"Richie! Phone call!"

Richie ripped out his earbuds.

"Be right there!"

And he was back to being himself. A scrawny kid who cries just ‘cause someone yelled at him. 

Richie slid the glasses back onto his face and wiped away the remnants of his tears. He had to make sure people knew he wasn’t a pansy, especially his dad. As he walked down the stairs, he composed himself.

_ You’re okay. You’re okay. You’ve taken worse before. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. _

His dad handed him the phone, then walked back into the living room to watch baseball. Richie put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Richie?”

_ Eddie. _

“Hey Eds, what’s up?”

“Don’t call me Eds, Trashmouth. Wanna hang out in the Barrens tomorrow at noon?”

_ Yes yes yes yes I want to yes y- _

“Yeah, if your scrawny ass can make it down there without dying.” Richie faked coughing, and continued in a weak, trembling voice, “Ohhh my wee heart can hardly take it anymore. I’ve walked ten feet, does anyone have a wheelchair?”

“Fine, fuck you, I’ll just call someone el-”

“Wait!”  _ You said that too fast.  _ “Sorry, yeah, I want to hang out.”

_ Please. _

Eddie laughed. Richie smiled.

“Okay, I'll see you tomorrow Richie.”

“See ya tomorrow Eds.”

The line clicked on the other end. Richie let out a heavy breath; his head was a jumble and he didn’t really know why. He walked back up the stairs to his room. Richie grabbed his walkman and ejected the Judas Priest tape. Returning it to its cracked plastic case, he walked to his closet and pulled out a shoebox full of cassettes. Richie placed  _ Painkiller _ in the box and withdrew  _ A Night At The Opera  _ by Queen.

Richie placed the cassette in his walkman and immediately pressed fast-forward. It took a couple tries, but he stopped at the beginning of "Somebody To Love.” 

Richie laid down and closed his eyes. In his head, Freddie Mercury was in the spotlight on stage, singing the opening and seemingly using his voice to light up the rest of the stage as the band trinkled in. Richie admired Freddie Mercury. He was so unapologetically himself. Flamboyant, but so unwavering in it that it was almost punk. He remembered a couple years back, when Freddie was described as "a bisexual rock star" and it was the first time Richie had ever heard that term. He had heard about gay people, about the way they act and the disease they apparently carried. His mom would occasionally go on short tirades about it while they ate dinner.

"I swear there's more homosexuals in this town every day!" she'd say. "I tell you,I was at the grocery and there were a couple of fairies walking down the aisle right beside me, talking loudly they way they do and holding their wrists like this," she would make her wrists go limp. "And so I held my breath until they left the aisle. You really can't be too safe these days."

Richie had thought about that a lot. He always watched for things like that. He certainly talked loud, but he didn't have a lisp or anything ( _ neither does Freddie)  _ and he didn't hold his wrists limp. And he certainly wasn't sick.

Richie took another deep breath and tried to focus on the music. 

" _ Somebody find me somebody to love _

_ Can anybody find me somebody to love? _ "

* * *

Richie woke up crying for the third time that week. He constantly was having dreams of himself and his friends somewhere dark. And something had happened that upset him greatly, something that just cut him up inside and left nothing but scraps. Just scraps of Richie Tozier, who was with his friends but was still alone and who had just lost someone - someone he loved.

But here he was, in bed, and not in the dark. Things were okay. He was okay. 

He took out his earphones and his hearing acutely picked up the sound of cars outside and kids playing on bikes. He rolled over and looked at his clock.

11:40 AM

Richie groaned. He overslept again.

Richie sat up and ruffled his hair. He cleaned his glasses on his blanket and slipped them on. He only had twenty minutes to get ready and get to the Barrens.

Richie walked to the bathroom and looked at the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy.

_ They should be fine by the time I get there. _

Richie sighed and walked downstairs, avoiding looking at his dad, who was sitting in his recliner, watching the local news. Richie dared not look at the screen. If he had to see the face of another missing kid, he'd lose it.

He slipped on his shoes, shouted goodbye, and left for the Barrens.

Richie saw Eddie waiting on a rock before Eddie saw him. They had been friends for a while now but Richie still found himself feeling like their friendship was new. Like everything they did together gave Richie that excitement you got the first time you did something. Even something as simple as going to the movies with Eddie made Richie feel like he'd only seen movies on a small television before and he was just now experiencing the big screen. Things were just exciting with Eddie, and Richie was honestly so grateful to have such a great friend.

"Hey shithead!" Richie yelled.

Eddie immediately swiveled his head in Richie's direction.

"You're late, asshole."

Richie shrugged and donned a New York accent.

"Ay, i'm a busy guy, ya dig?"

Eddie smiled, and looked back to what he was doing. It was only then Richie noticed the small stack of comics in front of Eddie. He walked to Eddie and sat next to him on the rock, picking up the top comic and flipping it open. Superman, Richie's favorite.

Something about Superman had always pulled Richie in. Obviously he loved Superman's multitude of powers, and his dedication to saving the world. Everyone loved Superman. And how could you not? He was the perfect man.

_ The perfect man... _

Richie shook his head and tried to focus on the comic, but his eyes drifted over to the comic Eddie was reading. Still a Superman comic, but a different issue. Richie set his comic back on the stack and scooted closer to Eddie, looking over his shoulder. From this close he could hear Eddie's breath, a shallow sound that consistently had at least a slight wheeze in it. Eddie glanced slightly in Richie's direction then turned back to his comic.

"This is the newest one. I picked it up on the way here."

Richie nodded. "Cool."

Eddie flipped back to the beginning of the comic. 

"Here," Eddie said, "we can read it together, I've read the rest anyway."

The two of them sat there in silence, only breaking it if Eddie flipped the page too soon. Richie adjusted his glasses a few times and leaned in closer, his chest pressing lightly into Eddie's back, who gave it no notice and focused on the comic.

Before long, they closed the comic and Richie immediately backed up.

Eddie put the comic down and looked at Richie.

"So what do you want to do?"

_ Anything. _

Richie held up his walkman.

"We could listen to music? Unless you have a condition that makes it so you can't put things in your little sensitive ears."

"Beep beep, Richie," Eddie said, and held out his hand, where Richie gently placed an earbud.

Richie inserted the other earbud and pressed play. He had  _ Frampton Comes Alive  _ in his walkman today.  _ Frampton Comes Alive  _ was one of his favorite albums. He had never been to a concert but the energy and soul that Peter Frampton seemed to put into his performances made him desperate to see one. Above all, it made Richie want to be on stage himself. That was always a dream of his. To be on stage, to present his energy, to have people love it, and love  _ him _ .

He also loved the talking guitar stuff Frampton did.

Richie and Eddie had listened to this album before, and Eddie asked how Peter Frampton did that "weird voice thing.”

"He uses this thing called a talkbox!" Richie had said, so excited to be the one to tell Eddie this. "It's an effect pedal that has a tube that directs the guitar sound into the singer's mouth, and you can change the shape of your mouth to change the sound of the guitar."

Eddie had been impressed by Richie's knowledge of rock music. He was never allowed to listen to this stuff and Richie always supplied Eddie with new, exciting, edgy music to listen to.

As the two of them sat listening to "Show Me The Way" Richie looked at Eddie.

_ Eddie will probably look like Superman when he grows up. _

Richie had no clue where the thought came from, but he honed in on it. 

_ They have similar hair I guess, but Eddie doesn't act like Superman. Superman is invincible and Eddie is so...fragile. _

Richie scrunched his mouth up.

_ That's unfair. Nobody is like Superman. And besides, Eddie is cool the way he is. And if he had Superman's powers, he'd do the same things Superman would. _

Richie ruffled his hair. He was being stupid. Those are weird thoughts to have. Why was he focusing on Eddie so much? Eddie doesn't even like b-

Richie's breath caught. He can't be thinking that. He can't have someone find out about that. As if to backtrack those thoughts, Eddie tried to focus on Beverly. A girl. Who he is supposed to like. He's supposed to like girls.

_ Eddie probably likes Bev. _

_ Shut up. _

_ It's true. Who else could he like? Bev is a girl. It's normal to like girls. _

Richie clenched his teeth. He felt dumb for having to fight against himself. How pathetic is that, to be engaged in battle with yourself, and be losing?

Richie took a deep breath. If he was to argue with himself, there's only one way to do it. With his classic "Trashmouth" humor.

_ If anything, Eddie is into his mom. _

Richie smiled.

_ Heyyy, I'm in his mom too, if you catch my drift. _

Richie smiled wider.

_ Eventually, everyone will be inside Eddie's mom, if she continues the way she's going. _

Richie snorted.

"What's so funny?" Eddie asked, opening his eyes to look inquisitively at Richie.

"I caught a glimpse of your face."

Eddie stuck out his tongue at Richie.

Richie relaxed. He was okay. He was okay.

But he felt something nagging at him. He had to ask Eddie if-

"Hey, Eds, can I ask you something?" The words were out of Richie's mouth before his thought finished.

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what's up?"

_ Say something. _

_ (Would you still be my friend if I was gay?) _

_ Say something. _

_ (Do you like boys?) _

_ Say something. _

_ (Do you like me?) _

_ Say something! _

"How does it feel being a virgin?"

Eddie snorted.

"Beep beep, Richie."

Richie smiled.

They fell quiet, and listened to the music.

" _ Well, I can see no reason, _

_ You living on your nerves _

_ When someone drops a cup and I submerge _

_ I'm swimming in a circle, _

_ I feel I'm going down _

_ There has to be a fool _

_ To play my part _

_ Someone thought of healing, _

_ But all I really want to know _

_ Oh won't you show me the way _

_ I want you to show me the way _

_ I want you day after day _ "


End file.
